One Night In Stockholm
by YIWT
Summary: Erik and Shaw's last night in the camp.  Believe it or not, other than the setting there's really nothing creepy or dire about this fic.


**A/N: Their last night in the camp. **

**This was a response to a kinkmeme prompt about Stockholm Syndrome, and so it was going to be about Erik developing an unhealthy affection… but then somehow it ended up being at least as much about Shaw doing the same. Because I think that even though he's completely callous and uncaring re _regular_ human lives, Shaw sees Erik as valuable and would try to take care of him. I don't think he was just trying to make nice in the submarine – I think he really believes all that. And I also think he's f-ing crazy, and somehow unable to appreciate the fact that others don't share his whacked-out priorities (Ie, that Erik would not have chosen to shoot his mother for the sake of helping develop his powers). So… here he is.**

* * *

><p>It wasn't the first time Shaw had sent for him in the middle of the night, but as soon as the office door opened Erik knew something was different.<p>

The doctor had an operating lamp on his head and some kind of humongous rusty pincers in his hand. His apron was streaked with blood, his hair stood out at odd angles, and he had a crazy crazy look in his eyes.

"Erik, come in!" he bubbled, and then gave a wide smile to the guards. "There might be some noise tonight, gentlemen; feel free to ignore it or to sit somewhere else if you want. Erik and I are perfectly fine in here alone. Isn't that right, Erik."

Wrong, wrong, and _wrong._ The doctor was fanatical about keeping his instruments clean, changed clothes as soon as he got a speck of blood on them, and never ever gave anybody these loopy smiles. Erik shrank away, instinctively pressing back against the guards, but they shoved him in and cleared out fast, muttering to each other.

Shaw closed the door behind them and gestured sharply for Erik's silence. They waited while the footsteps went down the hall. They heard the guards pause by their usual post, converse a bit, and then head away.

Shaw let out a breath. "They're gone." He dropped the rusty tool on the floor, took off the disgusting apron, and whipped out a comb for his hair. "We need to talk, and we need privacy for it. What's the matter, son? You look terrified."

"I… I am terrified."

"Don't be. Everything's going to be fine." He opened his filing cabinet and started thumbing through files and papers, pulling a few out, making a neat pile on the desk. "The rumors are true: the war's pretty well lost, and before too long this camp is going to be taken over. I'm going to run, tonight, because once the news spreads it'll be too difficult." He finished with the filing cabinet and moved to his desk drawers. "You can stay here, or you can come with me. Your choice."

Erik stared stupidly. After a while he realized he was _still _staring, and hadn't yet managed to think.

"Well?" Shaw pressed as he pulled a bag out of his wardrobe. "You'll have to answer me by the time I'm done packing."

Erik shook his head. "I… I don't know. I don't know what to do. What should I do?"

"You should wake up and think about it!" he snapped. "Here's what your options are. When they come for you they'll coo over you and feed you and bring you to a nice home with all the other little orphan Jew boys," he said as he started packing his things away. "Very sweet. Except, if they ever find out how you're _different, _that'll end – they'll lock you up in a lab all over again, and they'll do everything I did, only worse, because they'll be selfish and stupid and afraid. Do you understand me, Erik? You'll have to be careful. I think you can, you've made great progress with your control… but that's what you'll have to do. Hide."

He ducked into the lab for a moment to retrieve his notebooks. "Your other option," he continued, "Is to come with me. I can't promise you a home of orphan Jew boys. I _can_ promise you forty miles on foot through the woods to where I have a sure escape waiting, and after that, for a while at least, life on the run. But you'll be free to be who you are and be proud of it – and I can keep training you."

He had another bag waiting in the wardrobe, already packed, and he slung both over his shoulders. He held out his hand. "Well? What do you say?"

Erik couldn't move. It was all too much. "I… I don't know," he managed at last. All he wanted was to go back to bed and hide under his blanket. "Can't we… talk about it tomorrow… or something…" He flinched as Shaw's expression turned cold.

"Very well, Erik, if that's your choice, you'll stay." He put down one of his bags a moment and crossed his arms. "Pay attention. There's no one to protect you once I'm gone, so here's what you'll do. You'll take food. You'll hide behind boxes in the back room of the lab, and you won't come out – at all – until you hear soldiers banging on the door who aren't speaking German. Hm." He frowned a moment, then went over to his desk and hunted around far back in the bottom drawer. "And put this on," he said. It was an inmate's striped uniform, in tatters but folded neatly. "That way there won't be any doubt about whose side you're on."

Erik stepped away and shook his head. "No – I don't want to wear that." _That _much, at least, he was sure of.

"Until I leave this room I am in charge of you and you'll do as I say," Shaw said sharply. "I don't have time to play around tonight; if you don't obey me _right now_ you'll be sorry."

"I-… but… No, what if… what if I want to come with you?" he said desperately. "I changed my mind – I do. I'll come. Please let me come."

Shaw's eyes narrowed. "Do you _actually _want to come with me, or are you just afraid to be left in here alone?"

He knew better than to lie – the doctor could always tell when he was lying. "Both," he whispered.

Shaw watched him for a moment and then held out his hand. "All right, come on."

* * *

><p>Erik wore cuffs and carried a shovel. His terror as Shaw talked them out the gates wasn't faked, but he hoped that every word out of Shaw's mouth was. (He was wearing the bloody apron again and brandishing tools, which didn't make Erik feel any better).<p>

They went in the dark down a well-worn path and past ditches that Erik wasn't allowed to look into. When they were a safe enough distance away from the lights of the camp, Shaw unbound him, nudged him off the path and into the trees and said: "Run." Erik ran.

Even weighted down by bags, Shaw set a pace that seemed superhuman. Erik didn't consider himself a _bad _runner and he knew he was running for his life, but still, eventually his strength gave out and he fell behind. "Wait," he called. "Doctor please- I can't-…" he tripped.

Shaw was on top of him at once, hand slapped over his mouth. "Stop it," he hissed. Somehow he wasn't even out of breath yet. "If there's anybody out here…"

Erik nodded that he understood, but fought desperately to peel Shaw's fingers away so that he could get more air. "I'm dizzy," he gasped. "I can't go so fast."

"Jesus, Erik, we've only gone a couple of miles." He heaved a sigh and pulled Erik to his feet. Then he went down to a knee. "Get on my back."

"_What?_" he hissed. "You can't _carry_ me."

"Now, Erik."

Erik put arms around his neck hesitantly, and locked his legs around Shaw's hips when he stood. Shaw hiked him up to his waist, looked up to the sky for direction, and got moving – still at a run, an impossibly fast run.

* * *

><p>Some time later, Erik said into his ear: "Let me down. I'm fine now – I can do it."<p>

"Are you sure?" Shaw panted, out of breath and snarly. "Wouldn't want you to faint."

Erik was set down and he stepped around to glare. "I said I'm fine," he insisted, still quietly. "I can even take one of the bags if you want."

Shaw wiped at the sweat that was pouring down his face. "No. Just keep up with me."

And he took off again.

* * *

><p>Erik refused to cry off a second time. He ran, farther than he had ever run in his life. He ran and ran, and ran -<p>

And then suddenly he was being shaken. "I told you not to faint!" Shaw was hissing into his face.

"What?" he shifted, and realized he wasn't standing up. He was being carried – held against Shaw's chest like some kind of damsel in distress. "Put me down!" He tried to struggle, but it made him too dizzy and he had to stop. "I can't see," he gasped. "It's dark."

"No it's not. The moon's out," Shaw corrected breathlessly. "You're just about to pass out again. It's all right, I've got you – just breathe."

"I can't. I… can't breathe." Shaw's heart was pounding so hard next to him that it was giving him a headache. Or maybe that was his own heart – he couldn't tell.

"It's all right. Just breathe."

* * *

><p>"<em>Ah!<em>"

"Quiet, Erik."

"What-... Doctor?" It took him a moment to remember where he was. In the woods someplace. Running away – or rather, by this point, being _carried_ away.

"Sh, I've got you."

"I'm falling. I was falling."

"No, you're just exhausted and your mind's playing tricks on you. I haven't dropped you and I'm not going to. Keep quiet."

"I feel sick." Shaw's strides were steady and even, but still the rocking was too much.

"Don't puke on me, Erik," he said. Wearily.

As if it had heard its name being called, puke rose up in him. But Erik fought it down, breathing through his nose, swallowing hard over and over again. "I won't. Do you want me to try and walk?"

"It's all right, we're almost there."

He rested his head against Shaw's chest and let himself slip away again.

* * *

><p>A bump woke him. He jumped – something hard under him. Floor.<p>

"It's all right, I'm just putting you down now," Shaw said above him. No longer whispering.

"Where are we?" Erik _was _whispering, less because of secrecy than because he was too exhausted to speak with any volume.

"Safe. For a while anyway. Go to sleep."

Erik's vision had cleared enough to make out boots on the floor in front of him, and when the boots turned away Erik grabbed after them. "Doctor," he croaked.

Shaw paused but didn't bend down. "What?"

"I love you." He froze. That wasn't at _all _what he'd meant to say, he'd meant to say _thanks for taking me, _or _I'm tired, _or _don't leave me, _or _good night,_ or something, but instead it had all combined, into words Shaw was probably going to kill him for.

He could hardly breathe as the doctor crouched down close to him and reached out. He squeezed his eyes shut. Shaw sighed and rested a hand on his head. That same sigh, and that same caress, had preceded some of the most brutal punishments Erik had ever endured. He prayed to faint.

But he didn't faint, and Shaw didn't kill him, and after a moment of holding the pose without a word, the doctor stood up and left.

Erik didn't even try to puzzle it out; he just drifted off again.

* * *

><p>The End.<p>

**Please let me know what you thought of this! **People usually write Shaw as a sadist rather than a nut, and I'm curious how this way plays.


End file.
